Without You I Lose
by quinnslopez
Summary: Santana Lopez is living her dream, being a professional soccer player and the women's favorite . What if a certain blonde comes along and shows her the true meaning of love and success? Quinntana. AU. Takes place during the current World Cup.
1. Chapter 1

**I'm back with another story, I'm working on the others but I'm sorta lacking ideas. **

**Anyways, Santana is a famous soccer star, being the only female player in the recent world cup. **

**I'm a huge soccer fan myself and was inspired by the current world cup held in Brazil to write this story. **

**Honestly, I have no idea who will win it and so I just picked random countries that came up in my mind first. **

**This will be a multi-chapter story. **

**Have fun!**

She bent down, stretching her arms, and taking a big breath.

"It's too late to stretch now, Lopez" her team-mate Calvin approached her on her right.

"I need as much strength as I can get" the brunette replied easily, arching her back and lifting her upper body slowly up.

"Don't worry you got this, you're _the_ Santana Lopez" Her blonde team-mate replied easily.

He could not imagine the pressure on her right now. He wasn't the one having to shoot the finale penalty kick.

He could never picture how it felt to know you're the reason if they lose.

The hopes of all the teammates and fans were upon her shoulders and she didn't want to let them down, some careers even stood on the line of this possible win.

"The goal keeper, he's one of the best" Santana sighed, shortly displaying worry on her face, before she went back to her cold, poker face mask.

No one should notice that this situation was train-wrecking her.

Would her teammates despise her if she failed? Would the trainer degrade her to a lower position?

As if Calvin read her mind, he put his hands on his waist, worriedly tilting his head.

"But you're better"

They played 2-2 against Brazil.

The first goal was scored by Sam Evans, who plays for Real Madrid, and is one of the best.

The second goal was scored by herself.

Their opponents achievements were not negligible either. One was shot by the left wing, Noah Puckerman, with three bulky Spanish players blocking his way.

She knew Noah, he used to play in the same team as her. He was fast like a weasel, but she was faster.

"You should get going. The fans are getting impatient" Santana sighed.

Two of each them already shot penalties. Spain got both in the goal, Brazil, however, failed one, which meant, if Santana succeeded bringing the damn ball in the goal now, they would be champions of the world cup.

Santana stepped forward slightly, taking in the position of the ball.

_You can do this_, she told herself.

_You've scored penalty goals many times.  
_

_Why would you fail exactly this time?_

The reasonable part of her brain convinced her that the chances of her scoring were higher than the chances of failing.

She turned around, looking at her teammates, who smiled at her reassuringly.

She was not sure whether they were convinced she would manage this or if they just tried to make her less nervous.

Either ways, it worked for her.

Her heart pounded faster.

She wept the sweat, which built on her forehead during the ninety minutes of running, off.

Before, her mind could react to her body movements, she stepped forward, her steps growing quicker and quicker by each second.

She saw the ball displayed in front of her and with one strong swing of her leg, shot it right in the direction of the goal.

She blinked, waiting whether the goal keeper would catch it.

The goal keeper's feet took off, jumping in the air, trying to catch the ball heading towards the right corner.

The ball barely slipped past his fingers, inside the goal.

Applause and cheers broke out behind her.

Fans were chanting her name over and over again.

For a second her body felt like frozen. She had just scored the final goal of the World Cup 2014.

They were world cup champions because of her.

Her eyes went big as the sudden realization hit her, turning around and running towards her team mates faster than her legs could carry her.

She swung her arms open, looping them around several team mates, who were shouting, cheering and she swore some of them even cried happy tears.

Her team mates immediately surrounded her, patting her on the back, attack hugging or pinching her cheeks.

"We did it, we are the world best soccer team" Calvin murmured, his voice being gone from the shock.

Santana smiled at him cheerily.

"Santana did it" One of her team mates claimed, his face red from the train of running 45 minutes straight combined with the terror of penalty kicks.

"No, all of us did it" Santana laughed, her head buzzing from the loud cheers of their fans.

Back in the dressing room, she tore her sweaty shirt off her body and gradually slipped out of her trousers.

Perks of having an own locker room was that she would not have to worry about other people's reaction of straightly disrobe herself.

Being the only female player in the whole team could be quite stressing, but she enjoyed every second of it.

Never in her life she thought she would come that far one day.

As a kid, she was convinced male and female players were strictly separated in soccer, which was true until her sassy self came along.

She played in several successful female teams, but she never felt truly satisfied.

She wanted to play in huge leagues like her male companions, she wanted to see her own face on television when they reported about games.  
No one gave a shit about female soccer.

Her surprise was huge as one day the trainer of Arsenal contacted her, asking her to play for his MALE team.

She thought she didn't hear right, but he assured her she was such a talented player and not having someone as good as her in his squad would be a shame.

He said he would make an expectation for her only and she had everything cleared out with the soccer union already.

How he did that she never found out, but thanks to this moment soccer is getting more and more female stake, although she was still the only female in her team.

When she asked her trainer why he never has taken any other girl in his squad, he simply said that there was no other worthy enough.

She shrugged that day.

Others careers were not her business after all.

Her thoughts were interrupted, as she heard a knock on her door.

Quickly she grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her naked body.

Although many of her team mates have seen her half-naked on training camps, where they had no separated locker rooms, before, she didn't want to display her whole body to them.

"Come in" the door opened just a gap, enough space for her team-mate Calvin to slip through.

"Hey there" he smiled, sinking down on her bench.

She rolled her eyes at his urge to always disturb her in the worst moments.

Any other person she would have told to fuck off, but somehow Calvin was one of her best friends here and whether she wanted to admit it or not, she would miss hanging out with him.

"What do you want?" she grunted, turning around and disappearing in the bathroom, however keeping the door open so he could hear her.

"We are celebrating after."

Santana loosened her ponytail, pulling the hair tie completely off.

"No shit. I didn't think this needs to be celebrated" Santana stared at her own reflection in the mirror, her eyes wandering over her slightly red face, the exhausted look in her eyes and the smudged nude lip gloss on her lips.

"Anyways, you're coming with us? It's basically mandatory, since you're the reason why we won in first place" his voice echoed from the other room.

"I don't know, I'm kinda tired" she shrugged her shoulders, although it was technically impossible for him to see her.

She wanted nothing more to crawl in her warm bed at that time and be bombarded with the glory of her success the following day.

"Please, come on. You can't ditch now." Calvin protested. He's always been the spirit-animal of the two of them.

Santana was pretty sure that without him, everyone would hold her for an ice-cold bitch by now.

However, thanks to him fans adored her and managers loved her.

Perhaps she should thank him some day, when he is eighty, has Alzheimer and doesn't remember being a soccer legend once.

"Okay" she relented. "But I need to shower first. I look like shit"

"My sister will be there. You can finally meet her" He has been keen on introducing his sister to her for months now.

His whole existence revolved around her and every day he would ramble on about how cute she is and has just graduated high school and how proud he is of her.

How he describes, she must be fucking perfect, but she guessed if you really love someone you sugar-coat everything about that person.

And it didn't take a genius to see how much Calvin adored his little sister.

"What's her name again?" Santana inquired, caused by politeness rather than interest.

Hanging out with her team mates younger sister, was not what she had on her mind.

"Quinn"

Santana closed her eyes, gripping the edge of the sink. Quinn already sounded more annoying than she could picture that girl.

"Sweet"

This would be a long night.

**so, how do you like it? Do you like the idea of this story? Please tell me! **


	2. Chapter 2

After Santana had rinsed out her sticky hair and put on fresh clothes combined with matching sneakers, she hurried to the bus, being the last one to arrive apparently.

"Lopez, took you long enough" Eric, left-wing, shouted from behind the other team mates.

Due to his shortness she couldn't make him out behind the fellow players and could not hit him for the remark.

"At least there is something long about me" She replied, her team-mates surrounding her ,immediately breaking out in laughter and snorts.

Calvin bumped her shoulder, muttering "Good one" under his breath.

Although Eric pretended not to have acknowledged the Latina's fierce comment, he ducked his head to hide the fact that a blush was spreading over his faint skin.

"Come on" Calvin shook his head in amusement, as he grabbed Santana's arm, pulling her inside the bus.

She obliged, sitting down on a free seat next to him.

She liked sitting next to Calvin the most, or disliked it the least.

Unlike the others, he didn't shout obscene puns through the bus or bothered her when she fell asleep.

An unspoken rule between both was that Santana was always the one starting the conversations.

Especially during bus-rides she caught herself lost in her thoughts more than once and she was not exactly a gentle person if she was interrupted.

Her family has been on her mind often lately.

Despite being twenty-three, grown-up and having more than enough money on her bank-account, she sometimes felt misplaced in England.

If it was not for her contract and Arsenal spending loads of money on her each month (most of it she sent to her family in Spain), she might have quit already.

Truthfully, she missed her home and her family.

She even missed having to do the dishes after lunch and being lectured by her grandparents about old-fashioned manners. You need to lose something to appreciate the value of it.

Of course, she had Calvin, who has transformed in her own little family in the last months, yet he could not satisfy her feeling of belonging and familiarity.

The first months in London on her own, before Calvin transformed to Arsenal as well, have taken their toll on her.

Never in her life she had felt lonelier.

She spent her nights huddled in her home, ordering crappy pizza and watching re-runs of Friends.

First she tried to talk with other people and make friends but her desperation scared people away.

Her only friends were her team-mates and they were sort of work-friends.

A psychologist would have said she was suffering depression but Santana fucking Lopez did not have any weakness, especially in her own mind.

Plus, she needed the money for her family not some psychologist who charges 100 bucks an hour.

In the end she found a way to stop the affliction temporary.

Rumor had it she was fooling around with random strangers, which was true.

She had been caught more than once on the dance-floor trying to pick up a girl and it worked, it worked well.

The girls brushed aside their dignity for one night, only to have sex with a celebrity.

Most of the times they didn't even care if Santana left directly after the act.

Sometimes she fell asleep next to them, but that was cause more by her being wasted or too tired to drive home middle in the night.

She never commited to any serious relationship in that time.

During the bus-ride Santana reached down, grabbing her backpack and pulling on her lap.

Calvin looked up from his texts with his sister, expecting her to have brought food.

Ignoring his hopeful glanced, she continued digging in her backpack until she found what she wanted.

Subtly she pulled an old dusty novel out, pushing the bag off her lap and making place for the book.

She flipped the first pages of her book, _In Search of Lost Time_, open, quietly starting to read.

After a while, Calvin coughed, his curious gaze on her.

"What?" she snarled out of reflex.

"Since when do you read?" he inquired.

She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at her friend.

Everyone saw her as a dumb, money-driven person who did not spend her time on intellectual stuff.

People were too busy believing the gossip magazines to pay attention to the many photos showing her reading.

Her reputation as badass was made up and she profited of it, however, sometimes she couldn't help herself and feel annoyed by it.

People are so naive.

"I have other hobbies besides soccer, you know?" She shot back sarcastically, her eyes still not tearing off the page.

"Oh yeah right, that's why you have a _private _soccer field"

How did he remember that? Whenever he goes to the toilet in her house he gets lost.

Some think her house is too expensive and unnecessary but she's fucking millionaire, what would she do with the money she is not spending on her family?

At least there is no girlfriend in the picture for who she has to buy fancy clothes and handbags.

"I'm a _professional _soccer player, it'd be weird if I didn't even add a soccer field to my hundred year garden." she shrugged.

The thing about Santana is that once you started a fight she _always _has to have the last word.

Same thing about Calvin though, he argues with her about the better FIFA version on daily basis and is never satisfied with the outcome of the argument.

"Your entire life is soccer"

"Your entire life is soccer too"

"Maybe" Calvin hesitated, then chuckled. "If it wasn't for soccer, both of us might be waiters at a crappy food joint now"

"But we aren't, so cheers to that" Santana agreed, shortly having forgotten about the argument.

"However... I would be the better waiter" He concluded.

She sighed, turning around, throwing her book in his face and closing her eyes.

"Let's continue this shit once I got my sleep"

….

Sharply at 8pm their bus halted in front of a huge building, decorated with colored party gears and Spanish National Flags being tied up underneath the windows.

The building was old, but at least the decorators somehow made an effort to make it look halfway presentable.

Santana, noticing they arrived at their destiny, squeezed her thin body past Calvin and sprinting towards the exit-door.

It measured felt 100 degrees in the bus and the roads were curvy and bumpy.

She was seconds from barfing in the guy in front of her's neck.

She sighed as the cold evening breeze hit her and engulfed her over-heated body.

Pursing her lips, she orientated herself and walked sternly towards the entrance of the building.

Calvin rolled his eyes, but followed her suit to the front-entrance, where immediately several staff members greeted them, holding the door open and pushing aperitif in their hands.

Politely she dismissed them , continuing her way into the center of the building.

In front of a huge, closed-door she stopped, waiting for the other team-mates to catch up.

"Do you think this is it?" she asked impatiently.

One of the players next to her grunted. "Maybe you should have let yourself guide by the staff for once"

Santana ignored them, easily pushing the doors open.

Barely acknowledging the decoration and scenery of the room, she made her way through the huge crowd filling the ball-room.

Every few seconds someone approached her, wanting to take a picture or simply to congratulate her.

She pushed back the urge to roll her eyes at those people.

Seeing them in their fancy dresses and suits with Prada-handbags, she learned fast that they were more intent on _her _than soccer.

Heck, she did not even know _whether _they actually watched the game.

Santana wanted to spend her time surrounded by real fans, yet she had to keep going through this shit because "that's what she gets paid for".

"You don't want to scare sponsors away, do you?" Her trainer said.

And he was right, without them no one would sign her checks and neither could she support her family.

Keeping her from having to endure further conversations, Calvin grabbed her arm, pulling her after him.

"Thank you" she mumbled. "You wanna get some drinks?"

Calvin calmly shook his head. He looked really good in his tux and neat shoes.

He was probably the only attractive male she has ever met and if it wasn't down to the fact that she was gay, she would have tried to get into his pants a long time ago.

Not that he was the type for one-night stands; he had a girlfriend for over three years until they broke up just a few weeks ago, because of "irreconcilable differences".

The night they broke up, he called her and she came over.

He didn't cry, she didn't comfort him.

They just sat next to each other and stared at the blank wall.

She knew that's why he called her.

He doesn't like making a big fuss.

"Before you go and get wasted, I need you to meet my sister. I want you to make your first impression sober"

Despite her deliberations to walk away and get herself a drink instead of meeting his stuck-up sister, she relented and followed him.

She felt like she owed it to him.

He halted his movements in front of a small blonde, displaying them her naked back.

Santana was utterly shocked the noble girl dared to expose any part of her skin.

Before she knew what happened next, Quinn turned around, beaming as she recognized her brother.

"Calvin!" she lunged forward and hugged him.

He hugged her back quickly, before he pushed her slightly off him, enough to see her face.

"May I introduce you to Santana, my team-mate"

Quinn looked at Santana the first time this evening.

_Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow. Wow._

Santana's breath caught in her lungs as she took in the blonde's appearance.

Long silken hair cascaded over her shoulder, hazel-green, friendly eyes starting back at her and her naturally rosy lips cracked into a smile.

The girl was definitely a stunner and Santana did not expect it.

Sure, Calvin was attractive but she hadn't pictured his sister _that _attractive.

"My brother has told so much about you!" To Santana's surprise, Quinn stepped forward and hugged her.

Her body froze at the touch.

"I'm so glad you're with my brother in England, he needs some company" Quinn winked at her playfully.

Calvin grunted, but still kept a smile on his lips.

"It's nice meeting you as well" Santana awkwardly replied, her hands starting to sweat.

"No, the pleasure is on my side" Quinn quickly dismissed.

She has never met a girl like Quinn before. Fucking gorgeous but not arrogant.

"So... do you like soccer?" Santana tried catching on a topic, she was not going to make herself a fool in front of Calvin.

He would tease her for it until her last day.

"Yeah, of course" Quinn hesitated. "I played myself too"

Santana's eyes nearly popped out of her eyes.

A pretty, charming girl who played soccer. Is this heaven?

She would totally ask her out if it wasn't down to the fact that she was Calvin's freaking _sister. _

If he found out she even stared at her the wrong way, he would burn her alive.

His sister was his everything, his family, and apparently he beat up the last guy who broke her heart.

Of course, Santana would obviously beat him in a fight, however she did not want to ruin her _only _true friendship.

"That's impressive. How long did you play?" Santana required politely, smiling.

Quinn smiled back at her, her eyes wandering down the Latina's face and lingering on her lips.

The urge to kiss her was killing her on the inside.

"She played ten years" Calvin answered for his sister, suspicious about the arising tension between the girls.

"Why did _you _stop?" She asked, pointedly directing the question towards his sister this time.

First he wanted Santana to meet her so desperately and now he's backing out.

Quinn bit on her lip, staring down at the floor.

"I took interest in other stuff"

"Bullshit" Calvin exclaimed with a frown.

"They called her a tomboy, because she hung out with boys 24/7, played soccer and was not interested in the boys yet."

The blonde blushed at her brother's confession.

"And my sister, she wanted to belong and changed. That's why she quit soccer and started wearing dresses"

Santana had never felt a greater urge to punch someone than in this moment.

She should team up with Calvin and make the people's life who fucked with Quinn a living hell.

"The teasing stopped when Calvin became successful though. People started fake befriending me... That's why I withdrew myself and got into drama"

Quinn shrugged as if it was no biggie.

"They are missing out. If I met you in my high-school years, I'd have totally befriended you for who you are" Santana admitted. Probably "befriending" was not the right term.

"Thanks" Quinn smiled and patted her brothers' back, who still scowled.

"He takes it harder than me. Deep down he's always been a softie"

Santana arched her eyebrow, a devilish smirk building on her lips.

"Really? Tell me more"

"Shut up" Calvin warned her, but visible softened up.

Briefly Quinn laid her hand on Santana's exposed arm.

The simple touch was enough for Santana's thoughts to go crazy.

"Let's get drinks until he calmed down?" Quinn suggested.

Immediately Santana nodded, walking after the blonde and trying hard not to stare at her ass.

...:

Throughout the night she felt Quinn's lingering gazes on her.

Wherever she went, the blonde always seemed to cross her way.

It's like god sought revenge on her for being a ruthless bitch.

Maybe she was just not meant to have friends and in the end would give in and sleep with Quinn.

Her dilemma was resembling one of her common soccer games, so close to winning, yet on the edge to lose everything.

**I must say, I'm surprised by the amount of positive reviews I've received, you guys definitely motivated me to write this chapter even better.**

**I have done some research on Arsenal (since I'm not a fan but I want to stay independent here), but please don't mind me if some mistakes occur.**

**Furthermore, this won't be G!P, but Santana is acting quite masculine due to her surrounding and she's openly lesbian**

**What do you think of the story? I'm always open for further good ideas!**


	3. Chapter 3

She did not notice much, besides the air playing with her hair and a firm arm around her waist.

Her thoughts were blurred and with the last bit of recognition she made out the one holding her and slowly moving her towards the exit was none other than Quinn Fabray.

In any other case she would have swatted her hand away, but the arm looped around her hand sent chills down her spine and she did not want this to end.

Whatever this was.

Not remembering what led them to this moment, Santana assumed Quinn guided her out of the building to press against the nearest deserted wall and shamelessly connect their lips.

That's what most girls did with her. Why would especially Quinn be different and not take advantage of her drunken stage?

However, to Santana's surprise, Quinn halted her movements in front of a cozy black limousine, Santana's cozy black limousine as she would find out later, opened the door and carefully pushed her on the seat.

The Latina obligated, her hand searching Quinn's for balance.

She heard a faint chuckle escape the blonde's lips, as she let go of the hand and squatted down on the seat next to her.

After a few hushed exchanges of the blonde and her driver, the ignition was lit and soon they moved on the highway.

She was not sure where they were going or if this was even happening.

Maybe this was just a dream?

Maybe they didn't win the World Cup and Calvin never introduced her to his fucking perfect sister?

Her hopes vanished, as she felt the warmth of Quinn's breath in her face.

She must have turned towards her to make sure the Latina was not drowning in her own vomit yet.

Santana didn't ponder her next movements, as she leant her head sideways, using Quinn's shoulder as a support for her tired neck.

Making herself comfortable, she involuntarily nuzzled her face further in the crook of her neck.

Quinn didn't say anything, just kept staring straight ahead on the road.

"Your classmates were stupid" Santana eventually said.

Alcohol in her system always made her say things she would never dare to even think in normal state.

"What?" Santana gasped, the sudden noise in her ear burning her oversensitive nerves.

"You are beautiful, you should not change for anyone" she managed to crook out anyways.

Quinn turned towards her, a worried look upon her face.

"Don't speak, Santana. Just go back to sleep"

Defiantly, Santana lifted her chin, retorting the stare. Her eyes squinted as a forthcoming car blended them with its' headlights.

"Santana…" she attempted to coax her into going back to sleep with a subtle push against her arm.

Her shoulder promptly slumped back in the seat, not mustering to bring up enough strength for resistance.

Santana knitted her eyebrows, an absent stare fixed on the blonde's magnificent features

"What?" Her voice carried a glint of insecurity.

Why did the pretty girls always think so low of themselves while the arrogant, ugly bitches run around like they are the shit?

Santana never quite related to girls and their habits.

It was so much easier living and acting like a guy.

"You are the most beautiful girl I've ever met" Although drunk, Santana still genuinely meant what she had just sputtered out. She might not have said it out loud, however she would have thought it.

The smile vanished from Quinn's lips, her eyes glinting with sorrow.

"You are drunk" she huffed.

Worldlessy Santana tilted her head and held the blonde's bold stare.

Alcohol made her brave.

Like the one time where she actually tried to beat up a jerk slapping his girlfriend in a club.

Luckily, before she could start a fight Calvin held her back.

He murmured something about "no injuries for the game".

Santana scowled but still was glad he lead the young woman out and ordered her a taxi, after he glared at her boyfriend.

Quinn emotionless stared back at her.

If she wasn't drunk, the sight might have scared her.

Her body was stiff and her stare icy. Was this some sort of trick?

Santana was the weaker one and first one to give in.

She didn't in because she was afraid of her demanor though.

Involuntarily her eyes kept flicking down towards Quinn's slightly pouted lips and with every passing second it became harder for her to look up again.

Her body moved out of reflex closer to Quinn.

For the first time she could _smell _scent. Inhaling deeply, but casually (in her view at least), her nostrils were filled with the sweet scent of jasmine and vanilla.

Usually she was not the type to dig girl with feminine, flowerish scent, however Quinn was different. She was different in many aspects.

The composation of her scent plus the deep emrol eyes wandering over her own face, resulted in Santana squirming in her seat and shifting an inch backwards.

The need to lean in and connect their lips grew with every torturous intake of air.

Particularly her body was going rigid with lust and she had to bite back almost animalistic groans threatening to escape her throat.

There was no plausible reason someone could drive her body crazy like Quinn.

Undeniably Santana had many girls before, the one hotter than the other, but she has never felt like _this._

It was crazy, they had just met.

She never believed in love at first-sight. Or love in peculiar.

Not that this opinion changed, but _something _did change with Quinn.

She was not able to pin-point the exact cause of reasons but she felt it was there. She wondered if Quinn did as well.

"What?" The blonde ex player's voice cut the silence, which Santana wasn't actually aware of until in that moment.

She ended the word with a slight slur, hinting that she had a few drinks as well.

Santana didn't pay attention to tell exactly how much, however she did know that Quinn must have been more aware of this situation than herself.

Resistantly the brunette hummed, her hand patting her own knee.

"You are beautiful" she said honestly. She would have thought the same when sober. Anyone who had a common sense knew.

Quinn gulped.

"You told me that already..." she awkwardly glanced at the floor of the car.

"It's just so true, and come on, it's coming from someone as awesome as me. Feel honored" She couldn't help herself to bring in some of her cocky charm. In her state of mind she thought it would loosen things up.

"All mouth no trousers" Quinn giggled. Actually giggled. It felt like melody in Santana's ears. She even forgot about Quinn's snarky remark as the purrs of laughter first escaped her throat.

Santana sat up straightly, pushing her chest confidently out.

"A lie has no legs"

"That was no lie" she playfully rolled her eyes at the brunette's attitude.

"All roads lead to Rome" Santana concluded, with a wink.

"What?" the blonde quirked her eyebrow.

"I was just trying to sound witty, okay?" Santana crossed her arms in protest, a scowl over her face.

"You are witty, but the alcohol is messing with you"

Santana yawned on reflex, stretching her arms over her head and nuzzling her head into the back rest.

"You should go to sleep" Quinn watched her from the side.

She smirked and obliged Quinn, closing her eyes and falling asleep within seconds.

She was awoken by the bang of the car door behind her.

For a second she was confused about what was going on until she remembered. _Oh. _

She tried to move but her body was too tired to follow her brain's instructions.

Until then she didn't even notice the strong arms looped around her body, carrying her towards her house entrance.

This could not be Quinn. She was way too weak to carry the oaf called Santana Lopez.

Slowly she blinked her eyes open, recognizing the cab driver's face. She had to remind herself to give him a tip for this tomorrow.

Quinn hasted after him, stopping in front of the entrance.

She came closer, touching her leg, making Santana's body jerk. _What was she doing?! _

Her soft hand slipped into the jeans pocket, swiftly fishing out her house keys.

She unlocked the door, stumbling through the house until she recognized Santana's couch, pointing towards it, instructing the limousine driver to lie her down.

Santana was met with the feel of the cold leather against her tingling skin.

Quinn sighed, grabbing a blanket and spreading it over her body. In addition she pushed a pillow underneath Santana's head, her thoughts going wild at the blonde's hand in her hair.

She heard her own car keys rattle as they were laid down on the table next to her.

Too focused on trying to clear her thoughts, she didn't hear Quinn leaving the living room and closing the door behind her.

**I AM SO SORRY I DIDN'T UPDATE EARLIER! There is no apology and I know updating this now is kinda out of time, since the World Cup is already over (congrats Germany). I wanted to make this chapter longer but decided to split since I'm still kinda busy.  
****I still plan on continuing this even if some might lose interest since the hype about soccer will be gone until the European Cup.  
I honestly have NO idea where this is going and I'm just by the flow and random ideas to keep this interesting. **  
**Anyways, what did you think of the World Cup? Do you think Germany deserved the win? **


	4. Chapter 4

Far in the distance she heard a quiet, but noticeable noise flooding her room. She grunted, slamming her face in the pillow and praying for further minutes of sleep.

When the ringing didn't stop, she slowly opened her eyelids one by one, taking in her surroundings.

First she was puzzled as in why she was lying on her not so comfortable couch, her back aching as fuck, and not in her bed.

Her clouded brain didn't betray her though and soon the picture of last night came back in her mind. Damn.

The pain in her head was killing her and she literally felt like shit. Physically and mentally.

The immense need to rush towards the bathroom and hurl overshadowed the embarrassment that came with last night.

She bolted towards the bathroom, not caring how loud she was since she was living on her own anyways, tore the toilet lid open and was thankful she puked  
in the toilet not all over it.

Her maid would throw a fit if she had to clean that up.

And Santana was currently not in the mood to put up with her staff members.

For a moment she sat on the floor, the sour taste filling her mouth, causing her to nearly puke again.

Hearing the annoying noise hasn't quit down yet, she took the last bit of energy she had in her, heaving herself up and taking careful steps back in the living room.

On her way she tripped over her own feet, landing on her knees. She considered getting up but crawling towards her destination seemed like the more appropriate option to her in that moment.

She reached the living room but the noise was not coming from this room; it was clearly coming from the kitchen.

Her body screamed for her to stop and lie down but her mind was determined to stop this annoying noise whether it might cost.

Reaching the kitchen she saw the phone lying on the counter, blasting "Am I Wrong" on full volume. It was one of her favorite tunes but in that moment she didn't hate anything more than Nico & Vinz's voices.

She angled her phone and slid it down on the floor next to her.

Eventually she leaned back against the counter and checked her lock screen. 20 missed calls. _What the fuck?  
_  
Whoever this idiot was, he would pay for it.

However there were only two people who'd call her regularily: Her mom and Calvin. The latter option made her shudder.

It was _his_ sister who she flirted with yesterday. It was _his_ sister who she told she was beautiful.

And the worst part about it was that she could never escape this circle.

Once Calvin gets married, which he sure will cause he's just that romantic sap, he will ask her to be his best (wo)man for granted and who will surely attend this wedding as well? Right, his sister.

And what would that lead to? Awkward silence and unrequited sexual tension.

Unlocking her screen, her suspicions were verified. Every single miss called came from one phone ID: Calvin's._ Fuck_.

He must be crazy mad if he calls 20 times in one fucking hour. She has never experienced him mad and clearly that was not something she was looking forward to.  
She had no idea how he would react and that was the cause of her fright. If you didn't know the stage of someone's emotions there was no way you could calm them down.

Santana has always been a master at getting out of wicked occasions, yet this situation seemed different to her. The first time it was involving a person she actually cared about and was afraid to lose.

Timidly she hit the call back button and was immediately greeted with a very furious Calvin shouting a "What the fuck" through the speaker.

She had to remain herself from shooting back a snarky "What the fuck on my side" back, instead she settled on a decent : "What got your panties in a twist?"

Considerably it was not the best choice but still a huge step away from her usually very rude demeanor.

Calvin grunted on the other line and in her mind she basically saw the disappointed and angry glare his eyes displayed. She was torn between feeling sorry or being annoyed.

What did she do to piss him off?

Suddenly she thought back to last night and _shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

He could not know, could he?

At least she did nothing wrong, she hasn't like tried to kiss Quinn. The closest the got was the blonde's hand on her thigh fumbling for her house keys.

Given the situation Calvin should actually be proud Santana hasn't tried anything, especially considering her hormones were driving her shithead crazy while drunk.

"The better question is: Why did you get my sister's panties in a bunch?"

His breath picked up on speed as he shot the question in the room.

Did he think that…? God!

Santana felt the urge to slam her head against a table. Her reputation always went ahead of herself.

"What are you implying?" Her voice left her throat edgier than intended, but if he was expecting shit like that from her, he should not be surprised if she was feeling attacked.

"Don't play stupid, Santana" He called her Santana. Not S, not San. Santana.

There was no going back now, he was mad at her and she had to somehow convince him that she did not sleep with his sister.

And if he was her true friend he would believe her.

"Erm" she squeezed out of her throat. How could she put what happened into words without Calvin getting the wrong idea of it?

"Someone from the team, I'm not gonna rat him out, saw you leaving at one fucking am with my sister and had her arm around you. Seems pretty close,  
doesn't it?" A sarcastic chuckle followed his question. She didn't like the side of him.

It was scaring her.

"I can explain" Santana tried.

"I don't need your poor excuses! Just tell me, where'd ya go?" Santana put her head in her heads, knowing that if she told the truth he'd take it the wrong way.

She was not ready to lose a friend. She needed Calvin for god's sake.

Sighing she leant against the counter, hoping for the best outcome. However, deep down she knew this would not end well.

"We drove to my house, but…" she mumbled quietly, but loud enough for Calvin to hear. She fucked up.

"I KNEW IT, YOU ASSHOLE! SHE IS MY LITTLE SISTER AND YOU FUCKING USED HER!"

Santana jumped at the sudden volume of his voice, wincing and lulling her head back and forth.

If she wasn't hungover she could explain herself better.

She always had her way with words, but in this state she could do nothing but listen.

And Santana Lopez has never been a good listener.

"Calvin, please hear me out" she interrupted his fit of anger.

"HEAR YOU OUT? ALL I KNOW IS THAT YOU SLEPT WITH MY SISTER, SHE IS MY EVERYTHING, NOT JUST ONE OF YOUR FUCK TOYS. DON'T YOU FEEL ASHAMED?"

"Please" she winced. Never in her life she wanted to crawl in her bed and forget about what had happened that desperately.

"DON'T EVEN TRY. You know what the worst part is? I trusted you. I never even considered you would take advantage of my sister, but you did" he sighed.

"Does this friendship even mean anything to you?"

She wanted nothing more than scream "YES, IT DOES", but it didn't seem appropriate to her.

Being the needing end in a relationship sucked and she would not admit that she relayed on him.

If he knew it, he had the power to hurt her.

Underneath the covers of her tough self, she was fragile.

Her covers only helped protect herself.

She has never let down her walls infront of anyone other than Calvin before, and seeing the only person understanding her turning away from her hurt more than she could put in words.

"I didn't sleep with your sister. I promise"

Calvin stayed quiet on the other line, and for one second she thought he would believe her.

But of course he didn't.

"I promise my ass. You promised me to be a good friend and see where we are going now"

Why was he so driven on the fact she slept with her sister? Did he think that low of her?

Usually she didn't care what other people thought, especially tabloits and bashful fans, but this was different.

This was Calvin.

She might have the slightest attraction towards his sister, who didn't? In fact she was friend enough to not act out on the slight crush.

"Santana?" he inquired eventually.

The brunette's voice lowered, close to a sniffle. "Yeah?"

"Don't talk to me tomorrow, don't talk to me at all anymore"

His threat seemed serious to her, yet her mind could not register it.

Was she just losing her best friend over a stupid incident that did not even take place?

"What?" her voice was gone. Her feelings were gone. She felt a familiar sense of emptiness overtaking her body.

"Our friendship is over"

….

They went back to training for Arsenal soon after their win.

They went in the same bus but he never spoke to her even once.

She never heard of Quinn again and she didn't know what hurt most.

Most of the team, besides a few suck ups, didn't talk to her anymore. A

nd if they talked it was about tactic in games' or polite "hi's". At least they had the decency to greet her.

It was no surprise they teamed up with Calvin, he has always been the outgoing, nice one of them.

He had other friends. Perhaps that made the split of the two less tragic for him.

Deep down, although she denied it, she was glad he was not hurting too much because of her.

She was not sure whether he talked to his sister yet and at least believe in her when she tells him the truth.

He was incapable of not believing his sister, right?

The coach yelled at them to get on the pitch from the sideline.

Santana ducked her head, following her other team mates.

Özil, one of the newer transfers, walked next to her and sent her a warm smile.

He might not heard of the rumors about her yet.

She appreciated the gesture but ignored him and headed towards the middle of the field.

"Some of you won the World Cup" he paused. "But some of you also lost it" He paused again.

"Yet we have to work together in a team, to be stronger than ever before. At the end we all want to be winners, right?" He shot everyone a pointed look.

Her team mates stood still, paying attention to Wengers words. They looked up to him.

He was a legend and always brought them at their best.

"I do not tolerate any fights between you"

Santana wondered if he heard of the quarrel between her and Calvin but she assumed he was implying about the World Cup.

"We are a team. We are one. We win together, we lose together. Is that clear?"

A "yes sir" went through the crowd gathered infront of the trainer.

"Now let's get to training. We are splitting in two groups and then we do what we are best at, play"

Out of reflex Santana moved to the forming group without Calvin. She did not want to stray salt in the wound.

The self-made captain of the group, Sànchez Alexis, put her as forward. Even if some fought it, they knew she was undeniably the best forward and Arsenal's secret weapon.

Across the field she saw Calvin taking in the position as left defender, which meant he would have to defend the ball from _her. _Fuck.

The trainer blew the whistle, signalizing for the game to start.

First Calvin's group loosely kicked the ball between their players, until her group claimed possession and immediately made their way through the defenders, shooting the ball directly towards her.

She caught the ball with her knee, stumbling closer towards the goal.

Calvin appeared in front of her, a frown upon his face.

She avoided his gaze, using the time he shot daggers at her and pushing the ball sideways towards Podolski.

She ignored his presence and sprinted towards the goal, receiving the passed ball just in time.

With a firm strike of her foot, she kicked the ball between the goal posts.

Their goal keeper leapt off towards the wrong side and her part of the team broke out in cheers.

Although she was not exactly friends with most of them, they still approached her, patting her on her back or shooting her lopsided grins.

Overtaken by the pride and joys he even forgot about Calvin standing next to her, his arms crossed and a snarl upon his face for a split second.

Screw him. She didn't need him to be happy.

**Three days to update, a personal record. I'm sorry for the lack of Quinn, but she just didn't fit into any scenes.  
****Y'all tell me what you think and what I should improve, I'm open for requests. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Guess what! I'm working this summer and I literally found no time to update this. It's only three weeks left and after it I'm all yours and I'm giving my best to update weekly.  
****Sorry this chapter is kinda a filler since I know where this is going, but it's still to early to actually let it happen yet. You know what I mean?  
****By the way I'm so glad Germany won, they were at their best and deserved it.  
****Have fun reading! **

Cornering Calvin in the dressing room was Santana's first and most reasonable strategy.

Knowing he always took extraordinary long for a guy to dress up, she purposely waited in front of the cabin until most players cleared out, and then dared to step into it.

Besides Calvin, another player was still changing, shooting her a scandalized glare over his bare shoulder.

Sometimes Santana was puzzled why they even made the effort to provide her with an own dressing room. She was out and proud lipsticklover, plus she had seen at least half of the guys in their underwear throughout the games when they decided to randomly expose themselves especially on the occasions of victory or swap jerseys.

If Santana undressed in publicity it would be called a scandal and end up on magazines over the world.

In her opinion that was so sexist and unfair.

Not that she was complaining though, at least she had an excuse to not put on a teammates sweat-stained jersey after the match.

"We need to talk" she snarled, leaving no room for arguments.

Within the day she somehow regained her confidence and she was well aware that he would jump over his own shadow and eventually forgive her.

He's not the staying mad forever type. At least she hoped so.

Driving with his fingers through ruffled hair, he turned towards her, wordlessly pressing his lips together and continuing to undress himself.

As he lifted his sweat stained shirt, displaying his abs, Santana's eyes were still on him.

Did he expect her to leave because of this?

She wasn't like one of his groupies running after him and begging for the opportunity to drop their panties for him. She was not afraid of seeing him half naked.

Either the fact that she was gayer than Ellen or that he used to be her best friend, didn't make her see him in that light.

However his sister, hot damn…

Stop, she mentally slapped herself for the thoughts wandering to Quinn _again.  
_  
How was she supposed to convince Calvin she had no attraction for his sister while the soft brush of Quinn's hand against her bare arm occupied her mind?

Finishing dressing and grabbing his bag, ready to walk out and leave Santana behind, she grabbed his arm and halted his movements.

Weirdly enough for her thin frame she was stronger than him and he couldn't handle escaping the brunette's firm grip around his wrist.

"What?" he swirled around, frowning.

She didn't let herself be intimidated by his irritated sneer.

"Give me one minute"

He furrowed his brows not saying anything.

Santana saw it as permission for her to go on.

"Do you trust your sister?" her voice was persuading, pushing Calvin to give in and nod.

"Why don't you ask her then?"

Impatiently he played with the zipper of his training bag, his jaw clenched.

"You will convince her to lie to me" On any other given occasion he would have been right. In the past Santana used to manipulate people and made them fall for her tricks with one blink of her lashes.

Although she was long over this phase, she knew Quinn was not easy wrapped around her finger either ways.

Something told her that the blonde was quite extraordinary.

"She's your sister, you would notice if she lied"

He nodded his head, as if what she said made sense to him.

"Okay, I will ask her. But if she tells me you did sleep together, you're a dead woman" His words didn't have a joking or humorous undertone.

It was serious to him this time.

...

Given the current trouble with Calvin, Santana found herself not having a lot to spend her time with the evening after training and found herself watching old soap-opera reruns.

She hoped Calvin would get his shit together soon, because she would not survive watching girls whining about their periods and boyfriends daily.

Slumping further into her couch, she saw no other occupation than closing her eyes and taking a nap, while praying Quinn would convince him that nothing happen between them.

Just as she was about to drift off to peaceful sleep, the sound of the doorbell brought her back into the reality, her eyelids popping open and a strangled groan escaping her throat.

She heaved herself to the door, about to yell at the person invading her sleep.

To her surprise she was met with the beaming face of none other than Quinn Fabray, as she opened the door.

Her pulse sped up at the sight of the blonde and the hope of good news.

"Good morning?" Quinn didn't hesitate to shove Santana backwards and letting herself in the house uninvited.

"You woke me up" Santana intended to sound accusing but her mind didn't allow her to.

"How was I supposed to know you were going to sleep at 5pm?" She shrugged, her face not showing the least bit of empathy.

Any other person would have shit their pants if they accidently woke Santana- the beast- Lopez up.

"You're not the one having to run laps for five hours" Firstly Quinn ignored her, walking straight into the kitchen, Santana following her on command.

She had to stop her jaw from dropping wide open as Quinn reached upwards, opening a few cabinets until she found the one where the glasses were stored, pulling one out and filling it with water from the pipe.

"Yeah" Quinn raised the glass to her dry lips, taking a sip. "Actually I was jogging right now and on my way I decided to stop at yours"

"You could have texted me?" Santana leaned herself against the counter, feeling strangely at unease. The blonde gave the impression it was _her _kitchen and Santana was the visitor.

"I don't have your number, sweetheart"

"Oh yeah right" The brunette furrowed her brows. She swore they exchanged numbers but Quinn was probably right, she was the sober one.

After greedily emptying the glass, she put it back in the sink to the other dirty dishes Santana forgot (okay, intentionally) to clean.

"I hope you don't mind" she finally asked, her question not leaving much space for arguments though.

"It's alright" Santana stuttered.

"You don't remember much, huh?" Quinn ignored her, continuing talking about last night.

"You were pretty wasted, thank god you're an easy weight or I wouldn't have managed to drag you out"

"Thanks?" Either she just made fun of her body weight or she was complimenting her. Santana was not sure.

"I remember a nicer version of you" She added without shame. Quinn had more similarity with her brother than at first sight. Who knew the prude girl would go that sassy?

Quinn was like bitter chocolate. Sweet on the outside and snarky on the inside.

"It's all about the first impression, you know? You'd have thought of me as a cunt if I acted like this around you" Quinn winked at her. Fucking winked.

Santana's body reacted immediately, stiffening and her heart hammering in her chest.

Yesterday she saw Quinn as her prey, today she realized that actually herself was the prey.

"Anyways, I told my brother, he believes you but give him some time to calm his tits"

Unobtrusively Quinn slid away from Santana, creating a larger distance between them.

Santana might have noticed if she wasn't so distracted by Quinn's lips.

She could lean in. It would only be a kiss not sex. Calvin could not be mad at her for a kiss, right?

Never in her life had she felt a greater _urge _to do something than kiss the blonde opposite her in that moment.

Not even when she begged her mom for a puppy as a kid she felt that desperate.

Did Quinn know what effect she was having on her?

Did she know that the brunette's thoughts only revolved around her?

Eventually she muttered out a "thank god" without meaning it. Sure, she was glad to have Calvin back but something in the back of her mind was telling her that this was not over yet.

It would only be a matter of time until she lost him again.

"You owe me"

"I can take you to one of my games?" She suggested with the shrug of her shoulders.

"Calvin always takes me."

"No, this time will be different. You will be wearing _my _jersey, not his"

Saying the words, she did not calculate the thousands of people in the stadium who'd see Quinn in _her _jersey and rumors going around the world.

Quinn always managed to occupy her mind and not let other thoughts enter her mind until it was too late.

Being with Quinn was like playing with fire, so attracting yet so easy to burn one's finger with.

"Okay, deal. You're the last jersey missing in my collecting anyways. But I want it signed"

"Wait, why don't you have my jersey?" Santana felt more offended than she should. Suddenly insecurity crept up her spine. Was she not good enough for Quinn?

"No, I wanted to get it from you personally" Quinn's smile switched from devilish to angelic sweet.

It was impossible for Santana to be mad at her.

"Are you like a fan of me?" She went back to her usual cocky self and immediately felt relaxed again. Being the pushing one was always more comfortable to her.

"Duh, your biggest fan" she covered her mouth with her hand, snorting.

"Are you making fun of me? You should know I was rated one of the best players last year"

"But we're in _this _year, so don't boast" a soft giggle escaped Quinn's lips and Santana couldn't shake the thought of how much she could resemble an angel.

"I've never heard of _you_ winning any awards, sorry"

"Shut up" Although Quinn tried to frown, a grin spread across her face, betraying her.

...

Before Quinn left, she snatched a pen off Santana's kitchen table and wrote her phone number on Santana's hand despite her protest and suggestion to just write it one of the many papers spread across her desk.

Actually she should have rinsed the paint off and saved the number in her phone, however she found herself trying to maintain the feeling of Quinn's warm hand against her own.

Once she went to bed and turned the lights off, she cradled her own hand on her belly and softly thumbed across the linings of the numbers, halting her movements at every cringle and taking extra time to admire it.

Opposite to her looks, her hand-writing was kind of messy and admittedly if she didn't know, she would have never guessed it was Quinn's.

Yet something about her writing was special and ordinary. It made you look twice. Or at least that's what Santana did.

She fell asleep sooner than usual, with a smile upon her face.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I have a Beta now, so I guess I'm supposed to make less errors. AND SORRY IT TOOK ME THAT LONG AGAIN. I might bring this story to an end soon, cause I'm on a serious lack of ideas. Or can you guys help me finding something to write about?**

Anyways, have fun reading!

„You are late" were the first words she greeted her with on their non-date and occasional-friendly-go-together of friends.

Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, but her wicked smile indicated she was just trying to mess with Santana.

"Matter of fact I am"

The Latina waved her over to get into the car on the passengers' side, however Quinn didn't move an inch, her eyes staring at her challenging.

"Don't you know how to open a car door?" Santana sighed, her fingers clenching around the steering wheel.

They were already five minutes late, her trainer would most definitely kill her if she was late for their match, considering that her usual substitute player was hurt and there was no way he could replace her with a broken leg.

A pretty girl might be worth putting up with her trainer but Quinn was not any pretty girl and she wouldn't let her in her pants as an apology either.

Santana already had a negative track record for ditching practice or not paying attention to the trainer's threats, yet other top-league teams such as Fc Bayern Munich or Barcelona were dying to sing a contract within the blink of an eye with her and Arsenal knew well enough they should not or could not risk losing her.

They already suffered through down-times the last year and keeping Santana was their top-priority to regain their success.

"Won't you open the door for me instead?"

Grumbling, Santana got out of the car, knowing that this was going nowhere if things weren't in Quinn's favor.

She pulled the driver's door open, stepping back with a sarcastic "You're welcome, madam".

Nevertheless Quinn ignored the attempted politeness and shut the door with a loud bang behind her.

Rounding the car, Santana got into the driver's seat, lighting the ignition and driving on the street.

From the side Quinn watched her with pursed lips, driving her fingers over the leathern casings of the seats.

"Porsche, fancy" she noted, taking in the appearance of the car.

"I expected you to own an over-expensive car"

Santana shook her head amusedly. Although Quinn didn't seem impressed, her astonishment over that kind of quality could not be hidden.

"Tell me" she paused, humming. "Why did you buy this car?"

The driver frowned. No one has ever asked her for the motivation for her actions. Sometimes she couldn't pinpoint her own reasons herself.

"I don't know, I liked it, I guess?" She shrugged.

"Surveys suggest big cars are supposed to distract from small genitals, but since you're not male I go for self-esteem issues"

Santana was caught off guard by the assumption.

"No, I'm awesome, why should I be insecure about myself?" she quickly covered her surprise.

If Quinn continued asking shit like this, Santana would have a heart-attack before they even arrived and drive against some freaking tree and inadvertently kill both of them.

"Aw, it's a mother complex then, right? Or father? Feel free to break down infront of me. I'm good at counselling people"

Stopping herself from dropping the f bomb, Santana pressed her lips together in a line, staring straight ahead on the road.

"I love my parents, you're delusional"

"Everyone says that, but let's face it, at some point every single human being has shared their fair share of 'I hate my parents' phases. Plus, I will try not to laugh at you in case you start to weep like a baby"

If she wasn't responsible for bringing Quinn safely to their destination she'd have banged her head against the steering wheel and risked a brain aneurysm.

Who brought up the idea of taking her to the match again? Oh right, herself. Just great.

Putting a snail on her porch seemed as a better payback than taking her to the match to her in the moment.

At least snails were easier to deal with than Quinn.

Plus, the face of Quinn when she sees the soggy animals on her porch would be priceless.

It would come no surprise to her if she called the SWAT team to remove the small animal or the FBI.

"Like I said, I adore my parents. They always put me on the right track and supported me. My parents didn't make a lot of money, unlike your fine white ass. They worked hard to support us and I've always been grateful" she paused.

"The problem of kids nowadays is that they are spoiled. Not once in their life they learn how it's to be at the literal bottom"

Quinn's expression changed and the first time since they came across each other, she saw her features soften and the scowl on her face vanish.

Just for this one second Quinn let her guards slip. Santana appreciated it. She wasn't sure if she would encounter this side of the blonde again.

"I'm sorry" She awkwardly cleared her throat.

"Don't be, you didn't know. Besides, there are more kids than me growing up in such conditions. We shall rather focus on them, I'm the one driving a Porsche right now after all."

"You were right by the way. People never appreciate things until they lose them" she confessed, shrugging as if it was obvious.

To be honest, Santana never thought about it.

She was too busy actually getting her life in line rather than just _thinking _of it. Her life was not dedicated to dreaming of things, she was working for them and in the end actually achieved them.

What's the point of dreams if you don't chase them?

"People say I'm lucky. They don't consider I actually worked for my success"

"Yeah, I know. It's implausible for them why you achieved those goals rather than them. They justify their own failure of dreams with luck. The world's full of selfish bastards. Mostly they can't admit anyone would be better than themselves"

Santana nodded sceptically, the blonde's words suddenly making sense to her. Never before she's looked at people in that aspect.

"You should study literature" she murmured under her breath, the compliment being hardly audiable to Quinn. Truth be told, the blonde was the first girl actually engaging in a proper conversation on an intellectual level.

Not that the girls she's been with were dumb, they were just not ready to think about such things yet.

Most of them rather expected gifts and luxus-trips of Santana than deep conversations while driving on the highway.

It might sound like the most unromantic moment in history, yet Santana has never been that occupied with a girl. (not in literal sense, of course)

"I considered it, but I'm doing Psychology at Cambridge" Quinn confessed, putting her arm on the armrest and leaning further into the seat.

"So that's why you tried to lure me into becoming mushy about my feelings?" she tried to wink at the blonde, however since she wasn't capable of turning her head towards her, it rather appeared like she had a lash in her right eye and was furiously trying to blink it out.

"Partly that and partly wanting to get to know you"

Involuntarily Santana rubbed her sweaty fingers against the steeringwheel insecurily.

"Counsellors don't evolve any relations with the patients. So basically you are not supposed to get to know me as long as I'm your patient"she overplayed her surprise.

"I'm willing to make an expectation for you"

An annoyed sigh described Santana's joy of having to narrate about herself.

Sometimes not being the center of attention was more comfortable to her, as crazy as it might seem.

Afterall she was a _famous_ soccer star.

People automatically assumed she enjoyed being in the spotlight.

"I play soccer, I first started at seven.."

Unforeseeably Quinn swatted her arm, brushing the outside of her hand against Santana's bare upper arm.

As a result Santana's body froze, only her arms occasionally moving to follow the course of the road.

"I was not talking about your soccer career. I want to get to know _you._" She explained sternly.

Squinting her eyes, Santana grunted, winning herself time to come up with a believeable story.

Was she ready to tell Quinn _everything?_

Every little detail of her life?

The first time she decided against Quinn.

No, she was not ready _yet._

"I'm boring, I guess?" she tried, hoping it was good enough to distract her nosy passenger.

As if Quinn got the glue that it was a touchy subject to her, she turned her head towards the window, her gaze contemplatively following the silhouettes of the bypassing trees.

"We are stuck in traffic" she concluded after a few minutes as if she was paying attention to the cars around them the first time this evening.

"I know" Santana twisted her neck to watch the blonde girl in the passenger seat closely.

The slightly curled hair falling out of her loose bun, emphasizing her high cheek bones, made her almost appear like a princess.

But only almost.

This was not a fairytale and Santana was not the prince to the princess.

She won't rescue her eventually and get her happy ever after.

This was ordinary life.

Complicated, nerve-wrecking and tiring.

"We're coming late to the match?" her voice sounded alarmed and slightly concerned.

Santana couldn't help herself and chuckle at the perplexed frown upon the blonde's face.

"No, we're not. I always take off an hour earlier, 'cause I know this can be a rough part especially during the games"

"However, there's a difference between us and the honking, annoyed drivers surrounding us. Eventually we will be in the VIP-lounge enjoying fancy drinks, while they wait in the entrance line for hours"

Almost predictably Quinn rolled her eyes at Santana's arrogance.

Although she was acting quite cocky herself, it appeared Quinn had a certain distaste against her own cockiness.

The fact was quite amusing to Santana and she would make sure to tease her about it one day.

Especially in case they ever crossed the friendship line.

"If you're that _Vip_" she used her fingers for quotation marks. "Why didn't they build a road just for you?"

"Touché"

"Where's the jersey you promised me, by the way?"

Santana didn't bother answering, just nodded over her shoulder towards the plastic-bag on her backseat.

"It's in the plastic-bag. Signed, sealed, and delivered, just for you"

Quinn arched her eyebrow suspiciously.

"You signed it yourself?"

"No, my maid did" This time it was Santana's turn to roll her eyes, although she couldn't help but snigger under her breath.

"I like your maid more than you, anyways"

"Touché, again" Santana surrendered playfully.

"That's strike two for me, you're losing here, you loser" Quinn chanted from the passenger seat unmistakably loud.

"That's an inappropriate usage of the verb losing"

Before Quinn could tease her back, the traffic slowly started easing and the first cars were driving over the speed of a human-being walking.

Finally turning into the parkinglot of the stadium, their doors were opened for them once the car stilled and bodyguards dressed in blacks guarded them towards the entrance.

Quinn was unfamiliar with the situation and unintentionally grabbed Santana's hand, lacing their fingers.

The brunette ignored the tingles all over her body and she firmly pulled her towards their destination.

"I'm glad you came along" she muttered under her breath eventually.

Quinn's gaze brushed the side of her head, a smile tugging on her lips.

"Yeah, me too"

"Now put your jersey on to show those people who brought you here" she squeezed her hand.

"Just when you start being sentimental, your asshole streak ruins it"

Nevertheless Quinn was still smiling and hasn't let go of her hand yet. That must count for something, right?

…..

Eventually Quinn sat down on her assigned seat, stroking her bunched up dress neat and placed her handbag on her lap, which was way too expensive for a fucking handbag in Santana's opinion (but she wouldn't say that out loud around Quinn).

Reassuringly she patted the empty spot next to her, waving Santana over with her free hand.

Instead of sitting down, the brunette leaned against the bench lazily.

"This is awesome, it's beautiful" She said, watching thousands of fans chanting and holding up Arsenal posters, while the prep team still took care of the grass.

The opponents' fans were howling their team's name as well but their voices were overshadowed by their own excited fans.

"I thought you've been here before?" she asked, remembering Calvin talking about having brought along his sister.

Of course he'd bring along his sister. There was no way she hasn't come to face with the inside of the stadium yet.

"I did, several times, actually. Everytime I come here it feels strange; as if the area changed, or the people. I like it" Quinn confessed as she grabbed the plastic bag Santana has given to her earlier.

"What do you think changed this time?" Santana chuckled at Quinn's fetish.

"I don't know, I see people are more excited than ever. I don't wanna flatter you, but I think you're part of the reason. They appear to love you"

she pointed towards the crowd recognizing her behind the railings and trying to catch a glimpse of her.

"I know they love me" Just as thrilled as her fans, she waved back at them, knowing some of them would never forget this moment.

The first time she saw her idol in person was the greatest moment she has ever experience.

That's why she loved her fans so much. She knew how it felt to be one of them. She was one of them until she had the luck to become the one being idolized.

"Do you want to introduce yourself to the wives of the players, they're usually nice?" she said emphasizing usually.

Don't get her wrong, she genuinely enjoyed the company of them but sometimes seeing her team-mates interact with their wives convinced her that being on her own was profitable time to time.

Of course, there was loneliness but also she never had anyone telling her what to do.  
If she ever marries, she should be the right one and especially leave her alone when she wants to be left alone.

The only downside of her so great marriage plan was that no one was willing to spend anytime without the partner in a relationship.

They always seemed to be on each other's throat 24/7 and Santana couldn't imagine anything worse than that.

Even when married she still wanted to live a life.

"Nah, it's not like I'm your girlfriend. And I already know some of 'em"

Quinn shrugged, folding her hands in her lap gracefully.

"Anyways, I need to get dressed now. See you after the game"

Out of reflex she leant down to peck the girl on the lips, however pulled back in time so their lips wouldn't touch.

Pulling back, she expected Quinn to freak out and slap her or whispering a curse under her breath, however the blonde's features didn't indicate that she was aware of what was about to go down.

Or maybe she was just an outstanding actress.

Relief flooding her body, Santana nudged Quinn's shoulder divertingly, as she shot her a sly smirk.

"You're gonna kill them" Quinn said one last time as encouragement.

Playfully Santana faked bowing down in-front of her.

"Thank you, don't forget to put on my jersey though" she warned.

Quinn hummed, acting as if she was considering whether to actually fullfil the brunette's request or ignore her.

Eventually she snatched the jersey out of the bag, eyeing it curiously.

Noticing that the shirt was going to be too huge for her thin body, she grunted disapprovingly, picturing herself in the tent of t-shirt.

"I'm going to look like a sack in this!" she complained, frowning.

"No, you're gonna look beautiful, princess. Now put it on"

Quinn twirled the shirt between her fingers, her thumb pinching over the silken fabric.

"At least it looks comfortable" she muttered under her breath.

"I will put it on when you are gone."

Santana eyed her suspiciously.

"Promise?"

"Promise"


	7. Chapter 7

„I can't believe we won!" Santana shouted from top of her lungs, as she saw her favorite blonde waiting in front of the dressing room.

"I can't believe there's dirt on your face" Quinn said, walking towards her, head crooked and a slim smile plastered on her face.

Deep down she was proud of Santana and the goal she scored.

Manchester has never been an easy opponent.

"Where?" The brunette whipped her nose dumbfounded.

"There, idiot" She stretched out her hand, placing it on the footballer's cheek bone.

Carefully she graced her thumb over the hot skin, halting at the corner of Santana's lips.

"There you go"

Suddenly she pulled her hand back as if she was burned

Her gaze wandered from Santana, to behind her.

"Calvin, hi! I didn't see you coming!" she acted surprise, although she must have recognized him walking towards them.

As soon as he stood in front of them, Quinn jumped in his arms, distracting him from the person she had talked to.

After Calvin spun her, he easily put her back on her feet, his gaze meeting Santana curiously.

"Santana, what are you doing here?"

"Ah, just making conversation with your sister" she swallowed. "We got close the last weeks… Feels like she's my own"

Calvin smiled at the statement, obviously relieved Santana saw her under no circumstances in that way.

"Great to hear! You should go back to our teammates, though. They still owe you a celebration for your goal"

"Nah, my efforts have already been rewarded. Defeating Manchester is the best gift I could ask for."

"Since when so humble?" Quinn piped up.

"I've always been modest, right, Calvin?"

Sheepishly Calvin ducked his head, shaking his head silently.

"You tend to… be proud of your own achievements… and glorify yourself"

"Hey! That's rude! I'm just honest with myself, why would I deny my own awesomeness?"

Santana punished Calvin with a nudge on his shoulder.

"Yeah, you are so cool" Calvin turned to Quinn, rolling his eyes in protest.

"You know I saw that?!"

"Oops" he fake winced, putting his hand over the heart. "I'm sorry, forgive me, my dearest"

"Whatever, oak. I'm going. I'd rather spend time signing autographs for my caring fans than having to pretend to listen to your idle talk"

In slow motion she pulled her sloppy pony-tail open, aiming her hair-tie at Calvin and flicking it on his jaw.

"Score! I am awesome indeed!" she broke out in laughter, ignoring Calvin's angry stare.

She dismissed his mumbled "revenge" and walked away carefree.

An awkward silence formed between the leftovers.

"Don't you have autographs to sign, either?" Quinn eventually spoke up.

"They can wait. I'm reunited with my sister after weeks of not seeing each other, that's all that matter to me at the moment"

"Aw that's so cute!" Quinn stepped forward to hug him again, however decided against it. "You go shower first. You stink"

"How I missed your snark" Calvin playfully scolded.

"While you're dressing, I pick up some food for later, okay?"

"Okay"

With that Quinn turned around, on the edge to walking away.

"Why does your jersey say Lopez?"

Quinn stood frozen in place. Damn.

"Santana made me wear it, she said it would be a nice gesture"she confessed, her cheeks coloring pink.

"I like it, it suits you."

"Really?" Quinn turned around carefully, relieved at the sight of her brother smiling instead of raging.

"Yeah"

"It looks just like yours though" she added out of guilt.

"You should wear mine the next time then" he suggested with the shrug of his shoulders.

Quinn let out a breath.

"Sure"  
_

What?" asked Quinn, turning her head and meeting Santana's gaze, which she felt on her the entire evening.

Santana chuckled in amusement, putting her hands on the table for leverage of leaning her chin on her folded hands.

The silence proceeded until Santana crooked her head at Quinn's questioning gaze.

"You are beautiful" said she truthfully.

A small blush crept onto Quinn's usually faint-tanned cheeks and she ducked her head to avoid having to hold the stare between them any longer.

"Thank you" mumbled Quinn, her gaze still drawn towards the barely visible splinters of the wood.

"What makes the table more attractive than me?" said Santana, her lips pursed although the blonde was not able to see her gesture of annoyance.

It was just a habit that she's grown too accustomed to over the past years.

She tried stopping her customs that people considered annoying, but just like in any other occasion she failed.

Besides soccer, she felt as if she was a loser in every department.

"For all I know, I am more informed about his heritage than yours" Quinn said, the blush on her cheeks and the dimples replaced by a frown.

Truth be told, Santana didn't enjoy talking about herself, especially in interviews. She was just the kind of person to keep to herself.

What if Quinn didn't like what she tells about herself?

What if she decides her personality sucks and just leaves her behind?

It would hurt Santana on so many levels and she was not sure whether she would ever be able to fix the damage or move on.

In addition, Quinn hasn't presented much about herself either, besides the fact that she just graduated with A's only and is excessively addicted to How I Met Your Mother.

"If this was the case, where is the table from? Who was his/her mother? What type of wood is it?"

Quinn scrunched her eyebrows in confusion.

On any other occasion she would have thought the questions were insane, but coming from Santana it felt different, almost as if she had expected such a remark.

"Um…" said Quinn, while trying to compose herself. "The table is from China, probably. There are splinters everywhere and its cheap material, something that I don't associate with European quality standards. Second, it's a tree, it doesn't have a mother, moron"

Santana raised her finger in protest, trying to object, however Quinn swatted her arm and continued talking undisturbed.

"Third, it consists of birch, I've had biology and actually paid attention in my class, unlike you"

"Typical nerd. Blows my mind" Santana teased.

"Sorry for wanting having been educated" replied Quinn, rolling her eyes in process.

"I'm educated as well, you know?"

Santana crossed her arms in front of her chest.

Why did everyone think she was dumb because she was good at soccer and didn't need to get a college degree to come that far?

The stereotype that every athlete has no operative brain, is offending in her opinion.

And besides, Santana actually has attended college for a while and she rocked her grades.

"I was teasing you, now tell me more about yourself" sighed Quinn.

"Besides soccer, hockey is my favorite sport. My favorite color is purple. And my favorite celebrity is Ashton Kutcher. And Manuel Neuer"

"I never thought purple was your color" Quinn grimaced, trying not to giggle.

"It is actually. Enough about me, your turn"

"Okay, but before I go on, Manuel Neuer doesn't count as your favorite second celebrity. He's a soccer player and could you for once stop associating everything with soccer?"

"And?" said Santana.

"I'm not starting to talk about myself, before you named me one reasonable, not soccer bound, celebrity"

"Okay okay, calm your tits, woman"

Quinn shot her a glare from across the table.

"I will go with, um, Ellen DeGeneres then. She's my favorite lesbian… after you" Santana winked suggestively.

"You asshole, who said I was a lesbian?"

"You are on a date with me…" Santana pointed out.

Plus, she has seen how Quinn decently checked out girls walking by and that was just screaming boobs-lover.

In fact, Santana had a gay-dar, which worked well 99% of the time, besides that one time she accused her long-time friend of mingling with one of his coworker, but it turned out they were just working on a project together, that would get both promoted.

Even the rightest (in Santana's vocabulary this word does exist) person is sometimes wrong.

"I am here because you literally begged me to come with you. I didn't agree on this being a date though" Quinn defended herself.

"What could convince you to see this as a date, then?" Santana asked eagerly.

"You didn't even bring me flowers, sorry for seeing this as 'I'm forced to hang out with my brother's bestie time'"

Santana gasped dramatically, knowing this argument was far from over.

Quinn was lying when she said she didn't have the least bit of affection towards her.

That was impossible.

"I didn't force you" said Santana.

"You blackmailed me by saying that you wouldn't leave my doorstep until I came along" groaned Quinn.

"And it worked, so who's the real winner here? I recommend you give me a kiss as trophy"

"No way" Quinn exclaimed quickly, offending Santana in the process.

For the first time she asked herself whether she was the one in charge, or if Quinn took that position a long time ago.

"I will make it a date, just wait" said Santana, waving over a waitress serving close to their table.

"What are you planning?" hissed Quinn, when the waitress arrived in front of their table, a huge-fake smile plastered on her make-up abused face.

"Do you need anything, madam? Another glass of champagne?" she turned her attention towards Santana and a look of recognition spread over her face.  
At first she seemed baffled but soon used the fact that she just met one of the most famous stars of UK to her advantage, placing her hand on Santana's arm and in process pushing down her shirt, revealing even more cleavage if possible.

"I want to pay" said Santana firmly and unlike Quinn's suspect she didn't even bear a glance on the waitress open displayed cleavage.

"Yeah, of course, I will get the bill" the waitress walked away, swaying her hips and hoping for any reaction on Santana's face, as she secretly glanced back at her over the shoulder.

After what seemed a few seconds, the waitress came rushing back, scribbling something on the bill and pushing it towards Santana.

"What's that?"

Santana seemed seriously irritated about the smudgy numbers at the bottom of the bill.

"My phone number, honey. Call anytime" the girl giggled nervously.

She was pretty but average pretty, nothing special, Quinn noticed, as she watched the girl through squinted eyes like a hawk.

To be honest, she did not appreciate what was happening and if she didn't need to prove to Santana that this was not a date, she would have slapped the girl across her basic face.

Did she not see that Santana had company or the better question: Didn't she have any shame?

Santana sensed Quinn's tremor, lying her hand on Quinn's and squeezing it comfortingly.

"That's very sweet, but I'm not interested. Thank you" said Santana as politely as she could.

Quinn was uncertain whether she was happy about the fact that Santana wasn't interested in the girl or if she was irritated that Santana had the satisfaction of knowing Quinn cared about who she was flirting with.

The waitress grunted at the rejection, however still kept a smile on her face, probably expecting a huge tip for her "efforts".

Quinn didn't protest when Santana insisted on paying.

After what had taken place she wasn't sure if she was capable of arguing against something she wanted.

And she wanted her badly.

"So, is this a date?" said Santana hesitantly, while pulling out the money of her wallet, not sparing the waitress a second glance.

Quinn smiled.

"Maybe"

-  
On their way out, Quinn took her hand (much to Santana's surprise) and intertwined their fingers.

"Thank you"

"Not worth the mention" Santana quickly dismissed her, as she pushed open the car-door for Quinn.

After having spent more time with Quinn she grew accustomed to acting the way the blonde expected of her.

"What are you doing tonight?" said Santana, once she directed the car out of the parking lot.

"I don't know, maybe I'll watch a movie. Why?"

"Just asking" replied Santana shortly, staring straight ahead on the road.

"Come on, we both know you never are never interesting in anything that doesn't credit you"

Santana rolled her eyes at the remark, partly because she was right and partly because she felt sick always being put into one box by Quinn.

Once she classified her personality, she couldn't believe Santana would do anything that reached beyond her usual way.

To her Santana was one-sided, she didn't even try to find out about the girl hidden behind her enormous cockiness and self-esteem.

Especially the person she invites on the first real date she's ever had since sophomore year, is supposed that she's far more than one page to read.

She's more like a novel. Far from one-paged.

"This might be an exception. But yeah, you were right. I heard Calvin talking about coming to visit you tonight, bring dinner, you know? I was just wondering if you were inducted in his plans"

The blonde girl on her passenger seat shook her head quickly.

"I had no idea, if that's the case, we should hurry up, though. I know him good enough to tell he's going to ask questions and I don't want to beat around the bush this time"

Santana pressed her lips together, avoiding to show the other girl any sort of emotion to this statement.

"You mean you don't want him to know you've been with me?"

She couldn't help and bring out the end of the sentence harsher than she intended to.

"I'm sorry, it's not like this in particular..."

"Why are you acting this way then?"

"Don't you remember the last time he assumed we had a thing?"

Quinn reminded her of the awkward conversations the three of them shared.

"Plus, I don't want him to make a mistake to kick you out of his life. I know he would regret it"

"And you need a friend as well" she added silently.

"I know"

"But like you said, we were just eating as friends... or...?" Santana suggested.

"I don't know" hissed Quinn, kicking the car seat with her shoes.

Santana didn't have to be a psychologist to acknowledge Quinn was treading the conversation.

Perhaps she was as afraid of feelings as she was.

When she started having these unknown attraction towards Quinn both physically and mentally, she thought Quinn was the one getting up hurt, however looking at their past conversations it seemed to be different this time.

Quinn had power over Santana. Something Santana treaded and didn't see happening in a long time.

"What will you tell him then? That we are just friends? I don't think he would believe that. You can talk about luck if he wouldn't come and beat me up at the next training"

"Exactly that's the reason I want to prevent that occasion as long as possible"

Santana bit her lip, considering Quinn's words. She was right. It was too soon.

And if they ever told them what was going on between the both of them, whatever this was, they'd do it softly.

At least soft enough to detain him from attempting murder on Santana.

"If we are neither friends nor lovers, what are we then?" Santana asked skeptically.

"We are friends that go on dates together. Easy" said Quinn and smirked at the brunette while sending her a seductive wink.

"Friends with benefits, so to speak?"

"You wish. Cut the benefits. Friends without benefits but certain advantages"

"Sounds good to me"

**I know it's been an eternity! I'm sorry!  
****I was so close to abandoning this story, but I didn't for you, guys. I pulled my sh*t together and started writing about god knows what. Excuse me if this whole text doesn't even make sense. I didn't find the time to read over it again.  
****I have a certain idea where I will let this story head, but nothing specific yet.  
****RR! (Read and Review)  
((Yeah, I made that up myself and in my head it sounded more awesome than on paper))  
Lots of love!**


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